


Sheep Suit

by nowherenew



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Creeper Peter Hale, Creepy, Deception, History Trivia, M/M, young!Peter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-31
Updated: 2014-05-31
Packaged: 2018-01-27 19:39:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1720202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nowherenew/pseuds/nowherenew
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter isn’t <i>that</i> Peter, Stiles tells himself. It’s like a mantra, and he wonders if the fact that he has to tell himself says anything about the situation in its own right.</p><p>The Peter who sits with Stiles in class and laughs at his jokes is a different Peter. Peter Hale is dead. Stiles watched him die.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sheep Suit

New students aren’t rare. Uncommon, but not rare. Peter isn’t new, though—of that, Stiles is certain. Peter knows the town like it’s the back of his hand. He knows the school inside and out, smiling absently to himself in class and in the hallways. New kids don’t know the layout of their new schools. That doesn’t happen.

Peter treats the school almost like a fond memory.

At first, Stiles wanted to know what this kid is up to. Why he knows things and how he plays people with the things he knows. There’s no denying that Peter is toying with people, because clearly, he is. But then, Peter started sitting next to him in classes. He started asking to borrow pencils in AP English, started giving Stiles sheets of paper in chemistry. He’s friendly, and Scott doesn’t smell anything sketchy about him, so Stiles supposes he’s all right.

Whenever he hears Peter’s first name spoken aloud, though, he can’t help but shudder.

Peter slides casually into the seat beside Stiles in chemistry when Scott is absent. Or maybe he’s late. Stiles isn’t sure, and he doesn’t find out because suddenly Peter is smiling toothily and asking just how many classes they share. Stiles looks down at the schedule Peter has pushed across the lab table with a long finger, clean and new where his own is fidgety and covered in ink from spilled pens. 

“All of them,” Stiles says quietly, and looks up at Peter with a thick swallow.

Peter smiles genially and picks up his schedule delicately. He folds it into a neat little square and slips it into a pocket. “Perfect,” he whispers, and the back of Stiles’ neck heats up because it feels like Peter is telling secrets. “You can show me how to get to econ.”

The first thing Stiles wants to do is cry out indignantly, protest and tell Peter that he knows full well how to get to econ, but he doesn’t. He’s staring, slackjawed as usual, but Peter just quirks the corner of his lips up further and Stiles nods. “Sure.”

  


Stiles isn’t sure he’d call Peter a friend. Of course, he doesn’t exactly have a huge group of friends against which he can compare his and Peter’s... whatever it is. Still, he’s pretty sure friends don’t stare at friends. Not the way Peter stares at him. There’s no way Peter can think Stiles doesn’t notice his intense gaze boring into Stiles’ head.

Peter makes Stiles feel uncomfortable, but in a way he doesn’t mind. He’s just a bit of a creep; there’s nothing wrong with that at all. Okay, the one time Peter leaned in to sniff him before heading off to basketball practice was more than just a bit creepy, but that was one time! Stiles is the only person Peter ever hangs out with, and they don’t even talk all that much out of school, except on Facebook. He knows what it’s like to be alone, and it’s shit. Nobody should have to be alone.

Scott doesn’t like Peter. He hates Peter, actually. Much more than he should, considering it’s not like Peter took Stiles away from Scott. He hates him with a fury that is absolutely inconceivable to Stiles. When he asks Scott why he has a problem with Peter, though, Scott just mutters that he doesn’t know. “He just feels off,” Scott growls, and though Stiles has to agree with him there, he’s just glad to actually get attention from someone. He’s happy to have a friend that remembers his birthday and doesn’t give away Stiles’ seat at lunch to his girlfriend.

Stiles starts sitting with Peter in the lunchroom, in the little two-person table that Stiles could swear wasn’t in the corner before. Peter starts smiling more, but sometimes it looks like a leer, and Stiles recalls things he doesn’t want to dwell upon. But Peter isn’t _that_ Peter, Stiles tells himself. It’s like a mantra, and he wonders if the fact that he has to tell himself says anything about the situation in its own right.

The Peter who sits with Stiles in class and laughs at his jokes is a different Peter. Peter Hale is dead. Stiles watched him die.

This Peter smiles easily. He watches Stiles with intelligent eyes, follows every dip and curve and jagged edge of Stiles’ erratic babbling. He never gets lost when Stiles veers off-topic. He always has a random history fact to share with Stiles, each more interesting as the last.

“It wasn’t until 1890 that Christmas became a national holiday, you know.”

“In 1892, the youngest age at which a girl could marry was raised to twelve years old in Italy.”

“Members of the SS have their blood types tattooed on their armpits.”

“In 1992, Canada canceled its national beauty contests, because they were viewed as degrading to women.”

Stiles supplies Peter with jokes while Peter keeps him stocked on random history facts. It’s symbiotic, in a way. He satisfies Peter's constant hunger for entertainment, and Peter satisfies his endless quest for useless knowledge.

  


Stiles feels like he’s being swallowed whenever Peter stares at him with those icy eyes, somewhere between blue and green. He feels like he’s being eaten alive. And he likes it. He likes feeling appreciated; likes the way his fingertips go a little numb when Peter bumps shoulders with him; likes how whenever Peter’s voice gets slow and languid like tree sap, they’re alone and talking about things like philosophy and the nature of subjective vs. objective knowledge.

Peter has this way of lowering his voice; he speaks with a tone low and quiet, like he’s sharing something incredibly private with Stiles. Stiles suspects it’s a method of luring him in, because he’s gotten into the habit of leaning closer to Peter when he does it. Peter must like Stiles close, because whenever Stiles doesn’t eliminate distance between them, Peter does it for him. He scoots over, leans in, steps over.

Stiles really shouldn’t be as surprised as he is when Peter finally closes the distance between their faces, crushing his mouth with a violently gentle kiss.


End file.
